


Breathe.

by Rosy_Posy66



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Connor, Angst, Gavin is reedemable I swear, Gavnor, Heartbreak, Human Gavin, Human Hank, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pining Gavin Reed, Post Pacifist Ending, Protective Hank, Realising Feelings, Reed800 - Freeform, Slow Burn, Soft Boys, Trigger Warnings Included, detroit become human - Freeform, hank is a dad, i think lol, it's relevant I promise, not like in a weird way, platonic HankCon, there might be smut eventually but probably not lmao, there will be some ~spice~ tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-10-09 18:36:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17412101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosy_Posy66/pseuds/Rosy_Posy66
Summary: “No, Connor. I am decidedly not alright. In fact, I’m feeling like shoving this entire fucking coffee machine down your throat and then through my cranium. Are you fucking with me, Connor? Cuz if you are -”“Reed, I can assure you I am not joking.” Connor looked at him with a distant but not cold expression. “Believe me, this is not ideal for me either.”Gavin scoffed. “Excuse you, motherfucker? I am a delight, I’ll have you know -”“I’m sure,” Connor interrupted. “I’m also sure that I have better things to do than stand here and be insulted by my new partner. And I’m certain if you have any … issues, with me, Fowler would be delighted to hear them.” He folded his arms and stepped back, unimpressed and unamused. Gavin glared at him. He resented everything at this moment. He resented the shitty burnt coffee. He resented Connor’s stupidly attractive face. He resented his blood for coursing through his veins at such a pace he was sure Connor could hear it running. And most of all he resented the heat rushing towards his cheeks as Connor fixed his brown eyes onto his face with an impassive expression.





	1. New Partners and New Beginnings

 

Surely nobody could blame him for staring. After all, he wasn’t staring at some average joe, or even an attractive joe - he was staring at a creation designed to be the perfect intellectual companion. Obviously, the design hadn’t worked completely (Thanks, Markus) but somehow… it made him… better. More attractive, in a strange way.

Not to Gavin, obviously, but… just - just  _generally_ , of course. To other people, who definitely aren’t Gavin. Who haven’t noticed Connor and his slightly lopsided smile, or the small, almost unnoticeable smattering of freckles directly below the corner of his eyes. And who definitely were not currently sat at their desk, staring over their laptop over at a quiet android sat atop Hank’s desk.

Gavin’s hands twitched on top of his mouse. He felt like a creep, watching Connor like a peeping Tom and hoping his scan functions weren’t on. But he couldn’t help it - it was a truly disastrous formula. A tragic, lonely Gavin, boring file work on his screen and an unfairly and impossibly pretty RK800 sat less than 8 metres away from him. Connor was sat atop his Lieutenant’s desk, ankles crossed and long legs bent. He set the coffee he’d brought for Hank next to him, and let his hands drop into his lap. Gavin watched his fingers dance; long, elegant fingers that run over each other and interlock, barely at first, but becoming more and more compulsive as he watched his fingertips brush lightly over his knuckles. His head was bowed slightly, letting a few strands of hair fall loosely over his forehead and sculpted nose. His tongue slipped out occasionally to wet his lips (which looked absurdly soft, Gavin noted) and his chin dipped forward, letting the office lights hit his cheekbones and ears through the shadow of his hair. He blinked once, and Gavin became immediately transfixed by his eyelashes, watching the light shine through them onto his -

Connor’s eyes flicker up, and Gavin immediately lowered his gaze. Shit. He’d sighed aloud.  ** _Shit_**. Had Connor noticed him being a weird stalker? He pretended he’d been focused on his screen, and clicked on his mouse twice, absently opening some random files and typing in redundant coding. His chest thumped loudly in his ears as he swallowed. Alright, idiot, don’t let him see you freak.  _Focus on your breathing_ , he thought.  _Not too deep, not too shallow - 3 seconds in, 4 seconds out. 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 4…_

Traitorously, his eyes glance upwards towards Connor, who’s stopped looking at him in favour of talking to Hank. Connor leaned forward, listening intently, his face focused and engaged. Hank said something, then laughed and laid a hand on Connor’s shoulder. Connor smiled, quiet but genuine, and looked up earnestly at a content-seeming Hank. They looked comfortable with each other, at ease in a way that neither Hank nor Connor were ever like with anyone else.

Including Gavin.

He swallowed again. There was a tugging ache beneath his shirt, like a stone resting between his ribs above his stomach, ready to drop at any moment.

_Breathe, Gavin. 1, 2, 3…_

* * *

“Detective Reed?”

He tensed and squared his shoulders. Of course. Gavin turned around, adopting his signature lazy, uninterested expression. He fixed his blase gaze on Connor, picking up his mug of coffee and letting his back slump in a faux relaxed position, ignoring the quickening thrum in his chest.

“What’s up, terminator?”

Connor tilted his head to the side slightly, confused. “… My name is Connor, Detective. Connor Anderson.”

_Anderson? Since when?_  Gavin raised an eyebrow. “I know, rust bucket. What do you want?”

He watched Connor’s jaw tense. Grinning slightly, he began to sip his coffee and prepared himself for some kind of sarcastic kickback. But it never came.

“Hank has informed me I’ve been assigned to join all of your future tasks. That encompasses all cases, investigations, interviews, inquiries and suchlike.”

Gavin spat. Coffee spurted onto the floor right next to Connor’s shoe. Connor looked slightly baffled and disgusted, but that literally  _could not matter less_ because  _ **what the fuck did he just say to me?**_

Gavin wiped his mouth and looked up slowly at Connor. “What did you say?” he asked hoarsely, thinking (praying) that had been a daydream caused by misplaced attraction.

“I said, Detective, I will be joining all of your future tasks. Are you alright?”

With a furrowed brow, Connor reached out to touch Gavin’s shoulder. Gavin jerked back and breathed heavily. Colour rode high on his cheeks. _Pull yourself together, moron. Breathe - IDIOT. BREATHE, GAVIN._

“No,  _Connor_. I am decidedly  _not_ alright. In fact, I’m feeling like shoving this entire fucking coffee machine down your throat and then through my cranium. Are you fucking with me, Connor? Cuz if you are -”

“Reed, I can assure you I am not joking.” Connor looked at him with a distant but not cold expression. “Believe me, this is not ideal for me either.”

Gavin scoffed. “Excuse you, motherfucker? I am a delight, I’ll have you know -”

“I’m sure,” Connor interrupted. “I’m also sure that I have better things to do than stand here and be insulted by my new partner. And I’m certain if you have any … issues, with me, Fowler would be delighted to hear them.” He folded his arms and stepped back, unimpressed and unamused. Gavin glared at him. He resented everything at this moment. He resented the shitty burnt coffee. He resented Connor’s stupidly attractive face. He resented his blood for coursing through his veins at such a pace he was sure Connor could hear it running. And most of all he resented the heat rushing towards his cheeks as Connor fixed his brown eyes onto his face with an impassive expression.

“Fuck you.”

Connor turned, and walked a few paces towards the door. Gavin, fuming, returned to the coffee machine, when Connor spun to face him again.

He regarded him with a curious expression, one that was unreadable to Gavin. Not that he’d put any effort into reading this plastic prick’s expression anyway, because  _why wasn’t he gone yet?_

“You know, Detective, despite your insults and confusing pop-culture nicknames for me, I must say I look forward to spending more time with you. I should enjoy getting to know you better, Gavin.” With that, he left.

_What a dick,_  Gavin scowled.

* * *

In this particular moment, Gavin needed three things.

First, a drink.

He barely knew what he was pulling from his cabinet, but it smelled strong and burnt his throat when he swallowed it back. So he swallowed more, not entirely sure of whether he was drinking to feel the sting in his mouth or the stop the stinging in his skull. Either way, he was going to keep drinking until he hurt everywhere.

Second, noise.

He had no idea what he was playing on the TV, probably whatever trashy reality show was on at this hour. Regardless, he blared the volume until he thought it’d be justifiable for his neighbours to come over and throttle him. It was impossible to tell whether the ringing, screeching noises in his ears were from the speakers or the alcohol, but he almost liked that,

The final order of business.

He needs to stop thinking about that goddamn fucking impossibly beautiful tin can that he couldn’t get out of his head. He needed to stop thinking about his hands, about his fingers weaving between each other, about the easy smiles and happy expressions he’d seen on his face, about the fact they were now partners, and especially about those words that he’d said just before he left.

He flopped onto the couch. That ache, that weight atop his chest had only gotten heavier throughout the day. Without a doubt, if it gained another ounce it’d fall straight into his lungs and stop him breathing.


	2. And So It Begins, But I'd Like It To End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Cursing, Mentions of Alcoholism, Mentions of Drug Use, Mentions of Trafficking

There was a throbbing ache in the front of his head when he woke. Daylight streamed through the window and he blinked, feeling sleeping dust fall lightly onto his cheeks.  _ God _ . What time was it? He groaned, feeling himself wake up, his throat swollen and thick.  Pain rushed through his spine as he stretched and planted his feet on the floor.  _ Christ, Gav. Still wearing last night's clothes? At least you don't have work today.  _

Running a hand through his hair, Gavin eased himself off his couch and winced again at the cramp in skull.  His body felt raw and bruised, and when he yawned he could smell the alcohol on his breath. A grunt escaped him again, soreness shooting through his back. _ Have a shower, dipshit _ , he told himself.  _ You reek. _

The water was refreshing and crisp against his skin while he impatiently waited for the heat to turn back on. Tasting mint on his tongue made him feel slightly less dead, and if he had to brush his teeth again after vomiting, it was just a little more help. Heat sank into his knotted muscles, easing up the tension between his shoulder blades. Stress had knitted his tendons together. He'd been freaking out non stop as of late, what with work, adjusting to all the new laws concerning Android rights, and more. Oh, and Paul just showing up every now and again.

Gavin scowled. His ex. His complete dick of an ex, Paul Mallory. He groaned, letting his head smack against the tiled walls with a loud  _ thwack _ . Wasting his time on that deadbeat asshole had been his biggest mistake since backing Cyberlife at the beginning of the Revolution. But he couldn't keep thinking about him - if he had to picture his smug face one more time, he'd drown himself, here and now. 

He sighed into the stream of water. Waking up stinking of gin with a heavy head had started to happen more and more as of late. Paul would have said it was a stress coping mechanism, but he was a dumbass anyway. He could ask Hank, he guessed - when Connor had moved in with him, he'd enrolled Hank in grief therapy and Alcoholics Anonymous. Maybe he had some exposition on it.

Speaking of them living together, when the hell had that happened? And... and when in the name of God had Connor taken on Hank's last name? Were they... had they ... no. No, Hank was at least thirty years Connor's senior. Besides, they'd only met a few months ago. But that still didn't explain the - 

_ Why do I even care? _

Gavin shook himself and turned up the heating dial on the water. Connor could do whatever he pleased with whoever he pleased. He didn’t give a shit. In fact, he needed to get Connor off of his mind. Wasn’t that the whole point of last night’s drinking escapade? Just to stop him thinking about a guy he didn't even like. It probably wasn’t anything real, just Gavin needing a rebound after his prick of an ex. And there just so happened to be a hot android right in front of him.

_ Hot _ . Even thinking that made his face heat up. But yeah, Connor was hot. Really hot. It made sense for Gavin to be… hung up on him. It was normal. Natural, even, to feel that kind of physical attraction to him. But that’s all it was - Gavin drooling over a cute guy before eventually getting over it. And that’s all it could be. 

He couldn’t afford for it to be anything else.

The mat soaked up the water dripping down Gavin’s body. He shivered, the cold air hitting his skin. Towelling his hair, he walked out of the bathroom into his bedroom. His phone, atop his bedside table, was lit up like a Christmas tree. Curious, Gavin checked the screen. 

**YOU HAVE FOUR (4) NEW NOTIFICATIONS**

FROM: Headquarters

Reed,

Sorry to interrupt your day off, but there’s something urgent about the case that’s recently come up. We need you and Connor to come in immediately. He’s here waiting for you.

F

 

FROM: Old Man

get ur ass in here

 

FROM: Old Man

ur taking ages 

 

FROM: Blow Up Doll

Detective Reed, we request your presence immediately. There is a case for us.

 

A new case, huh? Better not let RoboCop down. He shoved his phone in his pockets and grabbed his coat on the way out.   
  


* * *

 

“Detective Reed, thank you for arriving promptly. I’m sorry your weekend was cut short,” Connor began, but Gavin waved him off without addressing him. 

“Whatever, Plastic, it doesn’t matter. What’s this about the new case?” He approached curiously, staring down at the digi-files open on the table screen. Hank’s eyes narrowed at Gavin, but he said nothing, merely folding his arms and looking back down. 

Fowler leaned over the table, opening up yet more files. “It seems there’s another drug-centric crime ring around Detroit. Not red ice, but - something new. We don’t have any samples, so we have no idea if it’s dangerous or not. But that hardly seems to matter in comparison.”  

Hank frowned. “In comparison to what, Fowler?”

He hesitated. “Well… they’re drug- _ centric _ , but not necessarily drug-exclusive. They also seem to be involved in… trafficking. Android trafficking, specifically.” He glanced up cautiously at Connor (who Gavin continued to ignore). 

Hank hissed, also leaning towards the table and studying the files more intently now. “Christ,” he seethed, “Thought people finally learnt their lesson. Fuckin’ assholes.” 

Fowler shook his head sadly. “We’ll need you to track down and protect anyone who seems like they’re being targeted. But we’ll also need any leads to the crime ring itself. However, it’s imperative that they don’t know they’re being tracked, especially by Connor. They won’t take kindly to that.”

“I wonder why,” Gavin muttered under his breath, almost unthinkingly. 

Hank spun to face him. “What’s that meant to mean, huh? Huh, jackass?” He advanced threateningly, his face twisted into an ugly snarl. Connor gently placed a hand on Hank’s arm. 

‘It's alright, Lieutenant. It doesn't matter.’ He tugged Hank back, but Hank’s eyes never left Gavin's face.

Fowler looked on disapprovingly. ‘I'm sure he didn't _mean_ anything. But both of you better watch your attitude.’ 

Hank scoffed. ‘Why? I'm only researching for this case. I'm not the poor bastard who has to put up with his ass.’ He jerked a thumb at Connor.

Gavin finally allowed himself to look at Connor. His hair looked freshly washed and quickly brushed back, a few strands falling over his forehead again. Crossed over his chest, his arms clasped each other loosely, as if Connor was giving himself a hug. He was dressed smartly but casually, in a fitting navy sweater over a collared button-down with blue jeans. Gavin's eyes lingered on his face just enough to take in the shadowing beneath his eyes and exhausted expression. 

‘I'm sure Detective Reed and I can find a way to tolerate each other long enough to stay the job done,’ Connor replied wearily. ‘But if that's all, Captain, I've downloaded all of the information supplied. I'll be happy to assist when I or someone else finds a lead. In the meantime -’ he broke off to glance at Hank ‘- we’ll be going.’ 

_ Shit, are they conjoined twins now? _ Gavin ignored the bitter feeling swelling in his stomach. Fowler nodded, and with that, Connor and Hank left.

Gavin turned back to Fowler, swallowing the sourness rising in his throat. “Well, you can just - send those to me, I guess. I’ll have look through them to see a way through.” He turned, fighting the urge to storm off like a moody teenager. 

“Gavin, wait.” Fowler grabbed his arm, holding him back. He sighed, maintaining his grip on Gavin’s bicep. “Please, just - I know you don’t exactly like the guy, but at least be civil with Connor. He’s a good man, and he’s willing to work with you.” 

Gavin shrugged out of Fowler’s grasp. “Whatever, Chief. I couldn’t give a fuck less.” He strode furiously out of the room. His chest seemed to expand into his throat and stomach, pressing against its restraints as if pressing against day-old bruises. It burned, burned like an infection in his windpipe. He felt the urge to yell, or scream until whatever rancid thing was stinging in his mouth was spat out. But he remained silent. The only noise to be heard was the rustling of his coat and the heavy drumming of blood in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LITERALLY HATE THAT I DELETED THIS WHOLE WORK ARGH


	3. What I Have To Give (in to)

The sudden buzz of his ringtone jolted Gavin from his thoughts. He’d been idly scrolling through the documents, looking vaguely for a lead or untied end that he’d missed when his phone had begun to blare an aggressive punk song. It howled insistently to him, the abrasive noise demanding his attention. 

“Fucking hell, Gav! What’s that noise?” Tina emerged from the bathroom, hair dripping over her collared shirt. 

“I’m- trying to-  _ fuck  _ that’s annoying - find my phone, I know I left it here- fucking  _ somewhere- _ ” He scrambled between the couch cushions, wondering who the FUCK he had given such an outrageously aggravating ringtone. “Got it!” He announced triumphantly, fishing it out from the couch. 

“Fuck me, you need to change that ringtone. What’s going on?” demanded Tina, towelling off her wet hair and approaching. Gavin seemed to be in shock, staring at his phone slack-jawed. Tina’s eyebrows furrowed, her hand coming up to wave in front of Gavin’s face. 

“Gav. Wake up. What’s going on? Who called you? Is it Paul again? I swear I’ll-”

“It was Connor,” Gavin mumbled, mostly to himself. Since when did Connor call him? He’d totally forgotten what he’d put in as Connor’s ringtone. He’d texted him  _ once _ , to tell him to come to the office for the new case.

“Uh… alright. Why’s Connor wanting you?” 

Gavin wanted to answer, but he honestly had no idea.

**TO: Blow Up Doll**

What’s up?

**FROM: Blow Up Doll**

I believe I have a lead on the case. Come over.

_ Come over? _ Gavin’s eyes flew wide. How had he found a lead so quickly? And more importantly, why had he called Gavin to come over? Wouldn’t he have just used his supercomputer brain to-

“GAVIN!”

He jumped. “Fuckin’ hell, Tina. What?”

“Why’s Connor calling? It’s your day off, isn’t it?”

He reread the two messages, eyes darting through Connor’s 11 words. “He wants me to come over. Supposedly he’s found a lead.” His voice came out strained and slightly breathy. 

“Alright, then why are you freaking out?”

His head whipped around to look at her fast enough to give himself whiplash. “What do you mean?”

She snorted. “Gav, your eyes are totally bugging and you look like your heart’s about to fall out of your ass.”

“I- shut up,” he grumbled, throwing a pillow at her head. She ducked, laughing harder now. 

“Whatever, dude. You want a ride to his house?”

He grinned. “Is this a guilt offer on account of you leaving me, alone and isolated, in this apartment?”

“D’aw, don’t be like that,” she pouted. “I’ve been wanting to move in with Alex for ages now. Just ‘cause we won’t be roommates anymore doesn’t mean I won’t still see your ugly mug at work - and we’ll still have movie nights!” She punctuated the ‘ages’ with a scrunched nose and an inflection like a whiny teenage girl.

“On second thoughts, I’ll just take that ride,” Gavin grumbled. He followed her laughter down the hall, a tiny grin spreading across his face.

* * *

 

“You sure this is the right house?” Tina asked.

Gavin swallowed, nervously regarding the house in front of them. It was large, surprisingly so, with a trimmed, expansive lawn. The front door looked slightly worn, but everything was kept neat - the potted plants next to the door looked healthy, the porch was swept and the windows were sparklingly clean. 

“Gavin?” Tina prompted. 

“115 Michigan Drive, right?” he said, mouth dry. She nodded. 

“Alright. Pick you up later, dork.”  She shoved him headfirst out of the door. He tumbled onto the concrete with a yelp. Laughter burst out from his friend. He flipped her off as she drove away, still chuckling. 

Still on the ground, Gavin winced as he pulled himself up from the pavement.  _ Shit. When did she get so violent?  _  His shoulders hunched forwards, closing in on himself. He eyed the house, his bottom lip sneaking under his teeth. Legs feeling almost hollow, he approached the house. Why his arms felt unusually light, his head a little too heavy and his breath slightly shallow, he had no idea. But he steeled himself and knocked on the door.

The two seconds before the door was opened was mildly excruciating. Connor opened the door, and immediately Gavin was assaulted with the smell of… baking? He blinked, surprised. Connor was standing in front of him, one hand resting against the doorway. His midriff was ever so slightly exposed, jeans slung low over his hips and worn, grey ‘Detroit Police Force’ ridden up just enough for Gavin to catch a tiny flash of muscle. Connor’s expression was unreadable, his jaw set tensely, but his eyes soft and his hair slightly ruffled. 

He moved to the side, granting Gavin access. Curiously, he wandered inside, following Connor down the bright hallway to the kitchen. He’d never been in Lieutenant Anderson’s house, and he was surprised to see that it was so… normal. Cheerful, with sunlight flooding the walls framed with canvases and photographs.  He trailed Connor up to the small wooden table, nodding silently when Connor offered him a seat.

He couldn’t stop his eyes roaming, taking in the tranquil atmosphere. Huh. Anderson hadn’t really struck him as a guy who’d be… tidy. He distinctly remembered the Lieutenant’s desk being littered with papers, his desks stuffed with pens, paper cups and God knows what else. It occurred to him that the only one who would realistically keep the house like this was currently removing a tray from the oven. 

“What’ve you found then, Detective?” he asked, the last word rolling off his tongue and popping out of his mouth. Connor cast his oven mitts onto the counter, the mysterious tray cooling off behind him, and picked up two mugs from the counter. Pulling up a chair, his eyebrows knitted together and his jaw tensed even more. 

“As I said, I believe I’ve found a lead on the case.” he began, wrapping his fingers around his mug. Gavin realised he’d set a cup of coffee down in front of him, and reached out to take a sip. 

“So… what’s the lead, then?”

He hesitated. “Explaining is… complex. I understand that Captain Fowler is expecting us to investigate the illegal substance trade, but…”

Gavin felt his curiosity pique. “But what?”

Connor leaned in. The tiniest smudge of flour hid beneath his jawline. “What if there’s something we’re missing here?”

“What do you mean, Plastic?” Gavin asked.

“Do you remember that Captain Fowler mentioned Android trafficking?” Gavin nodded in response, reclining and swigging his coffee again. “Well, I have reason to believe that that particular organised activity is significantly more important to them than they’d like us to believe.”

“So, basically, you think that… they’re trying to cover up their android trafficking… with drug deals?” Surely not. Surely Connor didn’t actually-

He shrugged. “It’s a possibility.”

Gavin almost laughed. “No, it’s not. What the fuck makes you think that it would be?”

He pulled out a tablet, bringing up the files. Parts of the text had been highlighted in lurid green.

Gavin huffed. “I’ve read the files, dipshit. I’m not dumb.” Connor pushed the tablet towards him. 

“Read it again. Look-” Gavin scowled, but his eyes darted down anyway.

“Supposedly, this man Sable Akers is the head of the ring. But you’ll notice every sighting of him is the same amount of time. The packages brought out are the same model. And they always walk in front of every security cameras.” He pointed to several clips. “Look- there’s even footage of them selecting a route that had cameras, as opposed to the one that didn’t.”

Gavin shifted forwards. “Like they wanted us to see something, right?”

Connor nodded. “Exactly. Not just that, but a few times, they even walk into rooms that nobody else has entered. Every transaction is almost identical. The only variations in any actions they take are-”

“The ones linked to trafficking.”

“Yes.”

Connor’s eyes flickered up to meet Gavin’s. He realised, feeling a string pull in his stomach, how close they were; both leaning over the tablet, shoulders just short of touching. Tilting his chair back, Gavin shook his head, ignoring the heat flooding the inside of his skin. 

“That doesn’t prove anything, though. Hate to break it to you, tin-can, but this is speculation.” he paused, struggling slightly. “Pretty good speculation, I guess, but… we can’t prove anything.”

Connor sighed. His shoulders dropped, and he sat back in his chair again. “I know that. I just can’t help but think…” he huffed, frustrated. “I think we’d be wasting our time investigating the substances.”

Gavin folded his arms over his chest. “Maybe you should ask Anderson. Where is he, anyway?”

Like a flash, Connor regarded him with a calculating, defensive look. Gavin resisted the urge to writhe uncomfortably under his stare. “Out,” he replied shortly, after a few agonizing seconds. “He’s taking Sumo to the vet.”

“Huh. You, uh,” he tries, awkwardly, “You really did a number on his place, huh?”

He shrugged stiffly, LED circling yellow. “I wanted to help him.” He stood up abruptly, shoving his chair back and taking his mug to the sink. Silently, he continued to wash up the few dishes on the counter. Gavin coughed, feeling out of place.

“So, what’ll be investigating first?”

Connor shrugged yet again. “It looks like we’ll have to look into the substance claims first.”

Gavin shook his head. Despite the fact that it was all speculation, he couldn’t deny that the theory Connor had proposed seemed intriguing. And… and maybe, just maybe, he felt an unpleasant weight in his chest at Connor’s bitter silence. 

_ For fuck’s sake _ . He almost couldn’t believe what he was about to do, but fuck it. “Well… we technically don't have enough evidence that the substance is actually dangerous, or illegal. But we are, I guess, theoretically more inclined to look into the… ‘ his voice trailed away. Connor had stopped moving now, just standing rigidly with his back turned to Gavin. “The fuckin’ -  _ whatever _ .”

Fuck. This was a mistake.

Connor turned to him. At first, his expression was unreadable, and his LED still glowed that ominous yellow colour. But a smile unfurled on his face like an opened present, eyes bright and crinkling slightly in the corners. And somehow, the warmth flooding his body whispered that maybe it wasn’t a mistake after all.

“You don’t have to… give in, to me, Detective. We’re partners. If you think it’s a bad idea…”

Gavin made himself snort casually. “Don’t flatter yourself, shithead. Like I said, it’s- it’s because we don’t have the evidence for the drug case.” 

There goes that smile again, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly higher than the other, the smallest hint of a dimple appearing teasingly in his cheek. Gavin wondered briefly why the  _ fuck  _ CyberLife decided to give an Android detective  _ dimples  _ (some weird form of seduction tactic? To get people to trust him?) but then was promptly distracted by the knock on the door.

“That’ll be Tina,” Gavin said, mind racing. ”It’s open!”

Connor turned around, picking up the abandoned tray from before.  

“Do you guys want some muffins?” He asked.

Gavin blinked. “... What?”

“Muffins,” Connor prompted, holding the plate out towards him. They were still warm, looking surprisingly fluffy and moist. “They’re blueberry.”

What in the name of- “No, uh, sorry, I’m - I’m allergic.” 

“No, you aren’t, moron.” Came Tina’s voice from behind him. For not the first time today, Gavin mentally cussed her out. 

“Good afternoon, Officer Chen. Would you like a muffin?” Connor said, now holding the tray out towards her. 

She grinned cheekily at him, taking two. “I’d love one. And so would this loser, even if he’s being awkward.”

_ I’m going to kill my best friend. And I will enjoy it.  _

“Well, if that’s all, Detective, I’ll see you at the precinct tomorrow. Have a good day, Detective,” he turned slightly, nodding and smiling at a charmed Tina, “Officer Chen.”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow then, Plastic.” He snatched Tina’s hand and practically dragged her down the hall, ignoring both the redness he knew was rushing to his face and Connor’s bemused wave to the both of them, accompanied still by that smile. 

“Thanks for the muffin, Connor!” Tina called, moments before Gavin slammed the door. He could faintly hear Connor laugh through the door. He strode, somewhat furiously to the door of the car before realising Tina had the key. She still had that shit-eating grin on her face and quirked a brow mischievously at him as he glowered by the door. 

“Not a word,” he warned, her giggles following her around the car.

“He’s  _ cute _ ,” she sang, a little too amused for her own good. But sat in the car, she watched him for a moment, that stupid expression still on her face.

“What?” he said, breaking the silence. He’d meant it to be causal, but it had come out defensive and broken in the middle. She chortled again.

“He just didn’t strike me as your type, that’s all,” she remarked, pulling out of Connor’s driveway. Another small laugh escaped her, but Gavin just opened the window, grabbed one of the muffins, and threw it with unnecessary force out of the car. Tina made a noise of protest, but Gavin stared straight ahead, clearing his mind of everything about Connor, including his stupid little dimple.

“He  _ isn’t _ .”

* * *

gavin you're so stupid

so today I woke up to 200 reads which is !awesome! Thank you so much for reading ahhhh

anyway, I recently set up my tumblr, which you can find [here](https://giveyouyourgrin.tumblr.com/). I tend to be really active, and you'll be able to find all of my work there, as well as whatever art I do. If you'd like to follow me, that'd be great! I've got some great things in store that I'm rlly excited about, so be sure to stay tuned :)

\- A

 


	4. All The Things I'd Never Seen Before

Alright, so maybe he had doubts before. Who could blame him, right? Connor had proposed a theory based on circumstance and chance, prioritizing it over what they’d been instructed to investigate. But the more he combed through the documents,  the more it made… sense.

Gavin guessed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Connor had a supercomputer brain that processed information seven times faster than any kind of human. He couldn’t wondering what went through that head of his, though. They had decided on an area that suspected affiliates were usually seen around, in case there were any androids that had seen them or might be targeted. But where _was_ that synthetic idiot?

“Hey! Tin Can! Where the fuck are you?” Gavin yelled down the empty hallways. Impatiently, he strode up and down the halls, still calling Connor’s name (or crude variations).  For fuck’s sake, it had been ages. _If I can’t find him, I’m leaving without him, I don’t give a shit about -_

His train of thought was interrupted by what he thought was a stuttered gasp. He paused, frowning. The quiet cries and muffled groans were barely audible, but he could just make them out as coming from a door down the hall, to the precinct coffee room.

“Hello?”

Short, sharp gasps snuck out of the other room. It sounded like someone in pain, Gavin noted. He pushed the door open and was immediately met with a view that knocked his breath straight out of him.

Gavin froze. Connor’s shirtless back faced him, slicked with a layer of sweat. Lithe, sculpted tendons spread across him, sinewy muscles flexing and relaxing between his shoulder blades. Gavin’s mouth went dry, eyes drinking in the sight in front of him, from the sweat dripping down his neck and perfectly crafted shoulders to his slim waist and hips. His back was curved forwards, hunched over the sink. More stuttered breaths and groans escaped him, one arm bracing him against the counter, and one… grabbing his chest?

“C-Connor, what are you-” Connor spun, eyes flying wide. He’d peeled part of his synthetic skin back, and his white hand was buried deep within his sternum.

Gavin’s head spun. “I… what the fuck are you…” Connor held up his free hand, silencing Gavin. His arm was shifting around in his ribs, clearly scrabbling inside himself for something. Evidently, he found it, as he pulled his hand out from his thorax with a palm-sized metal object. It looked like a small cylinder, but slightly dented and bent out of shape.

Connor’s breaths were still laboured and heaving. “Sorry, I- needed to-” he stopped, sucking in another deep breath.

_Wait, what? Since when do Androids need oxygen?_

“I-I needed to replace my thirium pump,” Connor explained, turning back towards the sink. His hand went back into his chest, and Gavin’s eyes went straight to Connor’s muscled back.  A small clink came from Connor’s torso, and he turns back around, all of his synthetic skin back into place.

And Gavin absolutely did not stare at Connor’s torso. No. He absolutely did not feel his mouth dry up while he watched Connor’s chest rise and fall, slightly slick and smooth and carved to perfection. His eyes did not wander across his chiselled collarbones (fucking fuck) or the knotted muscles strung taut across his arms. And he definitely didn’t curse CyberLife in that moment because who the _fuck_ makes an Android look like… _that_?

“Detective? Are you… alright?”

“Hnng- Yeah, yeah,” Gavin cleared his throat. “Are you… ok… like… with the…” His voice trailed away again, watching Connor pull his shirt back on. Like a cornered animal, he trapped whatever sound was trying to make his way out of his mouth in his throat.

“Yes, I am perfectly fine now.” Connor avoided his gaze. Gavin swallowed again and took a clumsy step backwards. His eyes flickered towards Connor’s fidgeting hands and tensed jaw, LED cycling yellow. He said something, but Gavin was entirely distracted because of one particular bit of information that just became apparent to him.

The distracting thing was that Connor was blushing. First of all, the fact that he can blush is already kind of astounding to Gavin. But the really maddening thing was that the flush spreading across his cheeks was _blue_. A soft, pale blue and Gavin suddenly found himself unable to do anything but marvel at the gentle hue steadily seeping across Connor’s face.

“Are you ready to go?”

Connor is asking him something. _Connor is asking him something, dumbass,_ **_respond_ ** _!_

“Y-yeah, we can go now.” He muttered, looking away. His eyes only returned to Connor as he watched him leave, briefly pausing before following him out the doorThe area was damp and grey, crowded with run-down shops and weathered bus stops. A chill trailed across Gavin’s skin as he exited the car, the wind running up and down his exposed arms and neck like a pianist’s fingers.

He shivered. The slate-coloured clouds looming above them threatened to rain, and the icy wind wasn’t promising either. Connor turned to him, adjusting his dark blue coat.

“We should scout the area. There are only about four blocks that any suspected affiliates have been seen, but we could always check the entire space.” Gavin nodded, still shivering. “I shoulda brought my fucking coat,” he muttered. Connor’s eyes darted to him, taking in his thin shirt.

“You can have mine, Detective,” Connor offered, pulling it from his shoulders and holding it out. “I can go without.”

Gavin snorted. “Thanks, but no thanks, dipshit.” He shoved Connor’s jacket back towards his chest and folded his arms. “I’ll start with the store, and head left. You go right. We can meet back here after we’ve each searched two blocks, then we can decide if I can stay here any longer without catching my fucking death out here.” Connor nodded in assent, and they went in their respective directions.

But nothing seemed noteworthy. The clerk at the old auto shop was self-absorbed and had no security cameras, the abandoned houses empty and decrepit, and the deserted parking lots vandalised and essentially destroyed. He’d run into the occasional squatter, who spat and hissed at his feet, as well as a few stains of blue blood, but nothing particularly unusual revealed itself.

He squinted, impatiently brushing away the droplets just beginning to land on his face. _Where the fuck is-_

“Connor!” He called. The android turned toward him, waving him over. Gavin groaned, but went towards him anyway.

“Have you found anything?” Connor shook his head, rain falling slightly from his brown hair. Gavin rolled his eyes. “Well, then it looks like we just wasted a shit-ton of time. So we can haul our candy asses back to the precinct and-”

A sudden crash interrupted his ranting. In sync, their heads whipped in the direction the sound had come from. They were met with a view of a crumbling old house with half of a sagging, tiled roof. Fenced off with rusted wire netting and every door and window boarded up, the house essentially flipped them off in way of welcoming. But Connor looked at him, eyes bright and gleaming beneath knitted brows.

“Did you look through that house?” Connor shook his head. “Then how are we meant to get in there without getting tetanus from that fucking fence?”

To Gavin’s surprise, Connor grinned. He took a few paces back, then launched himself at the fence, clinging to the wire about halfway up the rampart. Gavin almost laughed. “Well, fuck me. Aren’t you a regular fucking Spiderman?” Connor extended a hand to pull Gavin up, but he shoved his hand away and started climbing up the barrier.

Connor landed lightly on the ground (unlike Gavin, who essentially fell from the top and cursed his knees as he stood), springing up and looking around the house. Closer up, the house looked no less ruined than it had behind the wire netting.

“Do you think we can pass through those doors?” Connor asked, eyeing up the boarded walk-ins.

“Sure thing, tin can. Watch and learn.” He picked up a blunt, heavy wooden board and whacked it viciously against the door. Fragments of wood littered everywhere (Gavin smirked at the quiet “oof” Connor released when a particularly thick splinter hit him in the forehead) until the wood over the door was destroyed and scattered across the ground.

“Well, that’s…” Connor said bemusedly, rubbing his head, “Certainly one way to do it.”

Gavin rolled his eyes again. “Shut your trap, terminator. Let’s find out what that fucking noise was and we can go home. Connor laughed slightly, and Gavin (ignoring the warmth that sparked in his stomach hearing that) started to search through the rooms.

With every step, the floorboards creaked beneath Gavin’s feet. Everything in this room spoke of waste, from the stains lining the walls and ceiling to the shattered glass peppering the floor. The stench assaulted him, travelling through his nose and barging up, down and around his head.

Something felt… off. Unbalanced. Unease laced his veins, his eyes darting from corner to corner of every room he entered. But it was what he heard, not what he saw, that made him spin in shock.

“S-stay back! **STAY BACK!** ” a panicked voice yelled. Gavin stumbled backwards, tripping over himself. _Fucking- fucking fuck, somebody’s here. I have to tell-_

“C-CONNOR!” He yelled, backed into a corner on the floor. “CONNOR, THERE’S SOMEBODY-”

A large fragment of glass across his face cut his words off, interrupting them with a cry of pain. He felt his skin slice open, a shallow and thin cut opening across his forehead and throbbing immediately.

“Gavin!?” He could hear Connor racing up the stairs. Panic ebbed across his chest like the sting from the cut. He struggled momentarily, but pulled his gun from his holster and pointed it at the shadowed corner where the voice had come from.

“Detroit Police! DETROIT POLICE, MOTHERFUCKER, SO YOU BETTER-”

His words were yet again cut off by a howl, garbled and hysterical and… mechanical?

“Gavin? Gavin!” Came Connor’s voice as he sprinted into the room.

“Connor, there’s a fucking - a fucking _something_ or _someone_ who’s attacked me,” Gavin struggled to get it out, a sparse trickle of blood beginning to trail down his face, into his eyes.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” Connor demanded, gun readied and voice commanding and fierce.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, came the tentative sound of a creek from the dark corner.

A figure emerged. At least, Gavin guessed it did, bitterly flicking the blood from his eyes. He steadied himself, getting back on his feet. Immediately, he readied his gun.

Big mistake.

The figure leapt out, holding a rusted kitchen knife, stained with scarlet blood. Gavin prepared himself to shoot, but before he could, he felt an arm across his chest.

Surprised, Gavin turned to Connor. He had lowered his gun and was giving Gavin a gentle push, signalling him to step backwards. The figure, still half obscured by shadows, jabbed the knife in his direction again. But much to Gavin’s shock, when Connor spoke again, his voice was soft. Unaggressive. As if he was talking to… to a scared child.

“Hello..” Connor began. He took a hesitant step forward, and when the figure poked the knife at him again, he stood still. “I’m Connor. Are you OK?”

 _Are you OK?_ Gavin thought in disbelief. _Whoever this is just seasoned my ass with broken glass. I’m sure they’re hunky-fucking-dory._

But whatever the fuck Connor was doing seemed to work. The knife wavered slightly, but lowered. The other half of the figure emerged, and Gavin could see the worn fabric of the oversized trousers over the battered shoes the figure was wearing. They looked like uniform shoes, unlike the pants, which had clearly been picked up from a store. Odd.

“Is everything alright?” Connor asked, voice still gentle. “What’s wrong?”

Gavin heard a quiet swallow. “Th-they took… they took the little girl. The- he- just wanted- to help. But… wh-when Connor came - with the guns-” The voice choked off, and the knife returned, a mere half a metre away from Connor. Gavin’s hands flew to his gun again, but Connor stopped him.

“Oh.” The noise escaped Connor’s lips. A recognition, a realisation of some kind, Gavin guessed. What he was realising, Gavin couldn’t know. But he had to trust him.

“Oh. You - I see.” Connor steadied himself. “I’m sorry. I should have known. But look - no more guns.” He tossed his firearm to the side. It clattered to the floor, far enough away that Connor wouldn’t be able to reach it if the figure struck. “See?”

He motioned at Gavin to do the same. Gavin (still in a state of disbelief and general “ _what the fuck_ ”) obeyed, his gun falling to the floor.

“No more guns,” Connor repeated.

The arm holding the knife shook slightly. “No...no more guns?”

Connor nodded. “No more guns. We aren’t going to hurt you. I promise.”

The knife lowered again. “Th-they’re coming. They’re going to come here.” The voice - male, Gavin noted, and definitely somewhere between 19-30 - shook, as if holding back sobs.

“I know. But we only want to make sure you won’t get hurt. Are you OK?”

Gavin didn’t know what he had been expecting when the man stepped forward, but this was definitely not it.

The light split across the man, onto his greyish-blonde hair and pallid skin. His clothes, like the rest of the house, screamed of fear and disrepair, every edge frayed and every square inch of fabric tattered and worn. But the truly alarming thing was the scar, painted across the man’s face like an ocean of wires and synthetic flesh, azure blue and exposed bio-components buried deep in the canyon of a wound over his sharp nose, one of his grey eyes and a sunken cheek.

“R-Ralph… Ralph is…”

“It’s OK, Ralph. I won’t let anybody hurt you.” Connor’s voice was firmer now, but still calm and warm. Gavin couldn’t fathom the - the heartfelt quality to it. Either he was an exceptional liar, or… actually trying to help this man. _Android_ , Gavin corrected himself, noting the yellow LED spinning rapidly on the side of the man’s head. Connor reached out a hand, slowly, carefully to him.

“Ralph - Ralph know they’re after him. They - he -”

“I know, Ralph. But if you come with us, we will protect you.”

Hunched over, the man - Ralph - took a few steps forward. Connor didn’t move his offered hand, staring intently at Ralph. Slowly, torturously slowly, Ralph reached out as well, about to take Connor’s hand when -

Gavin swallowed. Ralph had a knife to his throat. He could feel the cold, wet (wet?!) metal pressing lightly below his adam’s apple.

“Humans- Humans hurt Ralph! They did it before!”

“That’s Gavin, Ralph,” Connor said, his voice still unbelievably collected. “He’s my partner. I promise he won’t hurt you.” He glanced back at Gavin, and there was something unreadable in his eyes, but it made Gavin’s heart twinge. “I won’t let him.”

Gavin swallowed. The knife clattered to the ground. And Ralph, still trembling, eyes still wide and vulnerable, took Connor’s hand“So, what’s gonna happen to him?”

Connor allowed the question to hang in the air briefly. “Ralph will be repaired by technicians, to the furthest degree possible. Then, he will be relocated to a safer, more discreet location.” He paused. “I will also see to it that he receives some form of counselling and trauma treatment. Hopefully, he responds well.”

Gavin turned to look at him. There was something more in his voice, something carefully concealed behind his words, woven between the rounded vowels. Somehow, it reminded him of… before.

_* * *_

_“Well, look at that! Our friend the plastic detective is back in town. Congratulations on last night, very impressive!” Gavin clapped, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Coulda’ got something out of that android if you hadn’t fucked it up.”_

_Connor turned to him. “Hello, Detective Reed,” he replied. Gavin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He wandered up to Connor, getting his first real look at him. Closer up, he could see the absurdly human-like shades of brown in Connor’s eyes. He looked him up and down, noting the few inches Connor had on him. The android was still regarding him with an impassive expression._

_His face was definitely unique. Gavin didn’t recall seeing any similar models before. He settled on that as his reason for being unable to stop his eyes roaming Connor’s features._

_“Never seen an android like you before,” Gavin said. Something resembling genuine curiosity and… something else, he couldn’t quite discern, had slipped into his voice. “What model are you?”_

_“RK800. I’m a prototype.”_

_“A prototype?” Gavin mocked, stepping back and looking at Tina. “Android detective. So machines are gonna… replace us all, is that it?”_

_Suddenly, he felt the deeply-set resentment rise from his bones. The loathing he felt for this machine, for everything it stood for, coursed through his veins. Everything… everything he had worked for. And some factory line Ken-Doll looking motherfucker was going to take it away. No. No, he wasn’t letting that happen. No matter what… he was in control._

_“Hey.” He hadn’t planned to speak, but the idea had come to him rapidly. “Bring me a coffee, dipshit.”_

_Silence._

_“Get a move on!”_

_Connor did, in fact, turn around and bring him back a coffee. Gavin narrowed his eyes and shoved the cup away. He glared heatedly at the android, who, for the first time, looked back directly at him. Gavin almost didn’t recognise the venom in his voice when he spoke._

_“Do yourself a favour, and stay out of my way.”_

_* * *_

He wondered, briefly, whether Connor remembered that as well. When Gavin spoke, the awkward gentleness in his voice surprised him.

“Did you… know him? Before, I mean?”

Connor nods. “We met once, while I was searching for a deviant. I intended to come back and take him into custody, but he had already left when I returned.” Connor glanced at Gavin before returning his eyes to the road in front of them. “Did he hurt you?”

“Nah. Are you… like… with the…” Fuck, what was he saying? How was he supposed to ask if Connor was ok? He swallowed. “You know, with your wires and everything.”

“Yes, I am fine. They merely caused a bit of physical pain, that’s all.”

Gavin frowned. “Didn’t know you could feel pain, RoboCop.”

Connor shrugged, something Gavin had never seen him do. “Androids were meant to be modelled off of the ideal human, with a few purpose-specific improvements. Humans were supposedly ‘nature’s perfect machines’, so there was little need for significant modification. Our wires mimic nerves, but certain parts are activated after deviancy, such as pain receptors. So yes, most androids can feel physical pain now.” He hung a left. “Is this the correct address?”

Gavin nodded. “See ya, dipshit.”

“Detective?”

He turned, halfway out of Connor’s car already. “What?”

Connor smiled slightly, the corner of his eyes crinkling the tiniest amount. “Thank you for your concern.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on tumblr babes @giveyouyourgrin :)  
> also a shit ton of people who know me irl found out about this fic so uh if y'all could just  
> not talk about it  
> ever  
> that'd be much appreciated lol


	5. In with the Outsiders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Cussing (excessively) mentions of violence, theft and arson, homophobic slur (singular, mild)

****He could feel Connor staring at him.

It felt like his gaze was spreading heat over his back. Gavin resisted the urge to snap at him, knowing he had to at least try to be civil towards him. Connor’s unconcealed gaze sent an unreachable itch running under his skin. He cursed his shaking arms.

“Connor,” Hank said, strolling into the breakroom, “D’ya want anything from the office?”  
“No, thank you, Lieutenant.”  
Hank bustled up to the counter next to Gavin, all flying elbows and billowing breaths. “How’s the case going, Shitlock?”   
  


It took Gavin a moment to process that Hank was speaking to him. So did Connor, apparently, his head cocking to the side the way it did whenever he was confused.   
“Did you mean Sherlock, Lieutenant?” Connor asked. Hank fumbled for an explanation for a second, but eventually just gave a short laugh. “Sure, son. How is it anyway?”  
  


“Fine,” Connor replied. Gavin tensed, struck with sudden inexplicable anxiety.  _Fuck, he’s not gonna... rat me out, right? I mean - fuck - I didn’t - I don’t even_ -  
  


Gavin stifled a groan of frustration. Connor continued, seemingly unaware.   
  


“We haven’t progressed very far yet, but from what we’ve found, everything seems to be according to the documents Captain Fowler gave us.” Gavin frowned. That… wasn’t exactly a lie. But it also wasn’t exactly what had happened, either. Was Connor… covering for him?    
  


“Good, then. Now that fuckin’ coffee machine better be workin’, because I’m gonna need a solid four cups to get through the - “  
“Detective Reed and Detective Anderson?”  
  


Gavin turned. A wiry young man, hunched over and blinking anxiously through thick glasses had walked into the room. An intern, Gavin guessed, sizing him up. He seemed twitchy, slightly cowering from the three of them.   
  


“There’s a reported suspect for you to question. Be ready, he seems… passionate.” Gavin nodded and moved towards the door, but the intern squeaked and turned red.   
  


“Fowler requested Detective Anderson to question the suspect, sir. The - he -” The intern stuttered slightly, flushing deeper red, but Gavin just turned to Connor. Connor nodded and smiled at the young man.  
  


“Detective Reed is my partner, and we have been instructed to carry out all operations as a unit. But thank you, Bensley.” Connor smiled and addressed the intern - Bensley, apparently - who continued to blush scarlet to the tips of his ears. Bemused, Hank looked between the both of them before shrugging and returning to the coffee machine. Gavin would have made some sarcastic remark, had Connor not already left, turning his head and beckoning Gavin to follow (which, of course, he did).

* * *

 

The suspect was a statue, back erect and eyes dully staring ahead. If it weren’t for the heaving rise and fall of his chest, Gavin would have assumed him to be an android; his very presence cold and unrelenting. 

  
“So, then? What’re you’re expecting?” Gavin turned, watching as his partner looked on at the subject. No - ‘looked’ was the wrong word. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, attentive and sharp compared to his purely impassive expression. Analysing, Gavin’s mind supplied. Yeah, that was it. Connor was analysing his subject, taking him in completely. It occurred to Gavin, with a jolt in his core, that Connor was likely scanning him, checking his vitals, hormone levels, determining his mood and motives. Whenever he was reminded of the abilities Connor had, it alarmed him, sure, but it was also… intriguing. Fascinating, in a way. And kind of hot, in a definitively non-specific to Connor way.  
  


His brain reminded him coyly that actually, it was specific to Connor, being that Connor was the only android with those abilities.  
  


Gavin told his brain to kindly fuck off.  
  


“Supposedly, he was caught smuggling some PL600’s - you know, the ‘common models’ as such, and there are a few records of him roughing them up on the streets, plus showing up at protests against the new rights billings.” Bensley’s nose crinkled as he glanced from Connor to the suspect. “He won’t give us his name or anything, but we found it in the records - Kurt Ramson. College dropout. Petty theft and arson.”  
  


Connor nodded. His hand reached for the door. Just as it grazed the handle, he turned back to look at his partner. Gavin raised his brows.   
“What’s up, plastic?”

Connor studied him for a brief second. “Observe the interaction. I don’t want to miss anything, and I believe your point of view should be valuable.”  
  


“Whatever,” Gavin scoffed. “I’ll watch, now get a fuckin’ move on.”  
  


Connor nodded and entered the room. What the fuck was that? Gavin asked himself. ‘Your point of view should be valuable’? The guy has a supercomputer in that head. The fuck does he think I’ll get that he won’t?  
  


The suspect didn’t acknowledge Connor as he entered the room. The air thickened with the mutual silence between the two, Connor wordlessly pulling up a chair and facing the suspect directly. His eyes were piercingly sharp, yet Kurt still refused to look at him properly, his stare blank and emotionless.  
  


Gavin watched Connor consider Kurt for a few minutes. He sat silently, fingers interlocked. But there was a certain tension to his posture as though he would spring up at any moment. But he sat, not saying a word, just staring at the man across from him.

Kurt began to fidget slightly. His avoidance of Connor’s gaze became more obvious, and Gavin realised this was what Connor was waiting for - the right balance of discomfort and distrust. It was a good - no, perfect tactic. Kurt was abrasive, brash, and hoping for direct and immediate conflict. But he didn’t want to jump right into a fight in case he said or did something stupid, so he was waiting for Connor to speak. Gavin had to admit, watching the man become more and more uncomfortable, that he may not have picked that immediately. He figured his temper would have gotten the better of him, and probably Kurt would have gotten the better of him too.  
  


“I didn’t fuckin’ do it, alright?” Kurt said, finally. Connor remained silent, eyes still trained on him in a way that bordered on predatory. “So you can’t fuckin keep me here. I didn’t. Fuckin. Do it.”  
  


Connor tilted his head slightly. “Do what, Mr Ramson?”  
  


Kurt looked as if he’d been thrown off balance. “I… the… what do you mean, ‘do what’?” He spat. “You can’t keep me here if you don’t think I -”  
  


“I know exactly what you’ve been accused of, Mr Ramson. But I have more of an interest in what you supposedly didn’t do.”   
  


Uncertain, Kurt frowned. “Well, the - the fuckin plastics. Those fairy robots everybody thinks I took. And the other one - the one they found all fucked up. They think I jumped them, but I didn’t.”  
  


Connor nodded. “The PL600s. You didn’t take them?”  
  


“ _No_ ,” Kurt answered vehemently. “I fuckin hate those things. Don’t wanna get near them.” He glared at Connor. “Fuckin bundles of plastic and wires comin’ in and taking our jobs, our homes.”

  
Gavin shifted uncomfortably. The man’s voice rung in his head, bearing an uneasy resemblance to his just a few months earlier. Just because he hated androids then… he supposed he didn’t hate them now. Didn’t like them much, either, but it was progress.  
  


Connor nodded again. He leant forwards microscopically, face still infuriatingly impassive. “How did you know that was why you were here?”  
  


Kurt spluttered. “I… well, why the fuck else would it be?” He challenged.  
  


“I understand you’ve been accused of petty theft, arson, and participation in illegal hate crimes. How could you be sure that it wasn’t one of those accounts?”  
  


“I…” He fumbled.  
  


“And, if you were unsure of why you were called in for questioning, why so certain you were innocent? You’re evidently unashamed of your political views.”  
  


“Damn right I am!” Kurt glared at him.  
  


“Then? How were you so sure that I wasn’t here to question you about the rallies?”  
  


“Because - fuck, I -”  
  


“Isn’t he fantastic?” Bensley breathed. Gavin snapped out of his state to turn to Bensley. He was utterly rapt, eyes trained on Connor with red dusting his cheeks. “He’s so clever.”

  
Gavin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he’s a fuckin’ Godsend or whatever. Mind the cameras, kid.” Bensley made a noise of embarrassment, and returned to the IT corner.  
  


“I didn’t TAKE those stupid fuckin’ bots, alright?”  
  


“Then how were you aware of their physical characteristics? You described them to me upon my asking.”  
  


“I didn’t-”  
  


“If you did not, in fact, assault and attack PL600, then how were you aware of how and in what state they were found?” His voice rose undetectably in pressure, the tone of it making it seem like his calm words were violent yells. “At the very least, you must know how it happened, which would beg the question why you didn’t offer up that information immediately.”  
  


“I haven’t fucking-”  
  


“If you were unsure of why you were here, Mr Ramson, why hide the thirium stains on your hands upon my entrance?”  
Kurt blinked, and looked down. His hands, balled into fists, were trembling on top of the desk, right next to Connor’s still clasped fingers. His breath became short and chopped, between his stutters and stumbling words. His eyes, wide and afraid, finally looked up to be met with Connor’s cool gaze.  
  


“I wasn’t meant to kill him,” He whispered. “They told me just to grab them and go - but the other one tried to fight me off. So I fucked him up a little, but they’d already lit up their fuckin hands to call the police. I had to - if I didn’t run, they’d kill me for getting caught there. If they knew I’d fucked up… that I’d let a few pieces of plastic beat me…”  
  


Fuck.  
  


Just, fuck. Less than seven minutes into an interrogation and he’d got a confession? That was impressive. Unbelievable, actually. Gavin leaned in even closer, forehead resting against the glass.  
  


For the first time since Connor entered the room, a flicker of emotion passed over his face. It chilled his stare, hardening his jaw to a clean, strong line. He stood, abruptly, hands finally untangling and coming to rest on the table as he leaned over Kurt.  
  


“You killed that man because you wanted to. Not because you were told to. Not because you had to. You wanted him to die, and you wanted to kill him.”  
  


Chills. Chills ran over his skin. He’d never heard Connor’s voice so cold, not even before he deviated. Kurt swallowed what Gavin could only assume to be a whimper. Connor’s hand flitted to his jacket and he smoothed his lapel, detaching his gaze from a blanched, panicking Kurt.   
  


“There’s no need to wipe your hands, Mr Ramson,” Connor said. “Thirium dissolves completely in 24 hours. Thank you for your compliance.” And with that, he turned and left the room.  
  


“Shit, plastic -” Gavin started, staring at Connor as he strode out the door. But he was cut off by an abrupt yell from inside the room.  
  


“You think you’re so fucking special, don’t you? Fuck you - you’re just a fucking bag of wires!”  
  


“The fuck?” Gavin turned, just in time to see a flaming red Kurt charging towards the door. On instinct, he slammed the door in his face. But Kurt just turned to the one-way mirror and continues to scream.  
  


“You just fucking wait, you piece of shit. You’ll end up in a fucking dump somewhere, cuz you’re just junk - you hear me? You’re nothing but fucking  _ **plastic**_!”  
  


It danced around Gavin’s head, ringing over and over in his ears. He couldn’t deny the stinging echo of his own words in Kurt’s bullshit screams. It bit at him, gnawed at the inside of his skin. Guilt, he realised, was not something he was great at dealing with. For fuck’s sake, he’d  _just_ called Connor ‘plastic’... but that was different, right? He was different… right?  
  


Kurt was still yelling, but Bensley had done something to the walls to dampen the sound. He’d scuttled from the IT room to Connor. After a few words exchanged, the two turned towards the exit.  
  


Without quite telling them to, Gavin’s feet began to jog slightly towards Connor and he reached out a hand to grab Connor’s shoulder. “Connor, wait -”  
  


Connor’s shoulder jerked abruptly away from his touch. He didn’t even glance back at him, just kept walking down the hall. Gavin stood, hand still ever so slightly searching out the disappearing figure getting further and further out of reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that awkward moment when you leave your fic for almost a month...oops.  
> tl;dr: Bensley is adorable and has a phat boycrush on Connor (who doesn't right) and Connor is a bad bitch. I fully plan on Bensley making a few random appearances in this story because he's so sweet and reminds me of a friend of mine. Gavin is an.............. awkward dude who doesn't know how feelings work. I hope you enjoyed and if you did, feel free to comment :)

**Author's Note:**

> so... this got deleted.  
> by me.  
> I'm upset.
> 
> regardless, before I stupidly deleted it, it reached over a hundred hits (???? why?) but thanks SO MUCH ARGH!
> 
> So for those of you who don't know, I'm the other account user. I'll always sign off my peices so you know who wrote what :) 
> 
> \- A


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